


Bird

by maybeiamwilliamwordsworth



Category: William Wordsworth The Prelude (1805)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-06 00:24:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20282350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maybeiamwilliamwordsworth/pseuds/maybeiamwilliamwordsworth
Summary: Wordsworth falls in love with his ex(a bird)





	Bird

”Bird.” Willyouare’s voice is soft.

He takes off his scarf. Amidst the harsh winter winds, he feels something new. A sense of shame, perhaps, one that is felt with a tinge of regret. He stares up on the branch of the winter tree he was under.

And here, bird responds with a single chirp. Wordsworth knew exactly what he meant with that single noise. He wonders how she feels about their breakup. He wonders how much she has changed over the past three years they were apart.

“CHIRP”

This time, louder and harsher, she does it again. Willyouare adjusts his sweater in an attempt to look busy, avoiding eye contact with the one he used to love. Yet after all this time, he catches himself off guard — what exactly was he doing here? Underneath the same tree where they shared their first moment of intimacy — it was all a fever dream to him now — but it was when he recognised the first taste of something new.

Yet despite the blueness of memory, his distance from the past, he remembers it all. The profound joy that was him and her, together. The only problem with seeing in technicolor is that it’s hard to go back to monochrome lenses. In this newfound greyness of the world was where he found a respite. The sweet taste of nectar from a pair of solid beaks that he held ever so dearly. It was indeed a dream — and as all dreams do, they cease once you step into reality.

It was to the love of his life that he had dedicated his magnum opus to. The Prelude by Willyouare Wordsworth. Dedicated to the one and only love of my life — bird. This was the intended foreword to what could have easily been the greatest poetic narrative of the era.

But it was all sweet secrecy. A lie constructed so elaborate, that even the worst of his moments would not reveal. The pressures of the world was settling down on him like dust on a statue. Perhaps this lie — as great as it was — was never built to stand the test of time.

In a letter to his friend, who goes colloquially by the name Coldfridge, he had shared his desires of writing a long poetic narrative — one so great that it glorified him as a hero of the world, an agent of the natural entities. But what was not mentioned was his relationship with Bird. It was frowned upon, perhaps, or he feared the reactions he would get. It was a sweet secret, a world that only Willyouare and Bird had private access to.

Then, a sudden “chirp” like thunder broke him out of his reverie. His guilt began to wash over him as he recalled his departure from the private world he constructed. All in the name of art, supposedly, on his way to become the greatest poet of all time. All for this art. The fame, the recognition, the pride of art. Yet was this worth it all?

A sudden flash of dark feathers and a warm yellow beak sprang in front of his field of vision. With her sharp beaks, she pecked his forehead toughly.

Willyouare doesn’t even flinch. He stares at her. He had always liked her eyes, how sincere her gaze is.

Without warning, he had decided to take control. Seizing her by the body, he ruffled her aged feathers and the wings he had once cared for. The years of their youth may have been a monument of the past, but they both craved it deeply.

With less than a pause of hesitation, he drinks the Essence of the bird.


End file.
